Cured
by Teddster
Summary: Saved from the insanity of undeath, former-Fallen Lativ must deal with regret, the world around him failing, and a certain group of bow-wielding madmen that want all those like him dead. Oneshot


**Cured**

Lativ awoke from his own, personal hell and was promptly thrust into another one.

He gasped once he realized he had a heartbeat. His eyes darted around a squat, dark room, moving of their own free will. A torch faintly illuminated an area nearby, the flame spluttering and near its death. He raised his shaky arms, staring at them for a moment before pushing himself off the ground, utilizing all of his fully functional limbs. He staggered around for a bit, stretching his stiff, sore limbs and breathing – _breathing._

Vaguely he recalled his time as a Fallen. He was a natural villager – not one to travel far from his village of birth, a natural merchant, not really a fighter. Along with the rest of the village, Lativ had never stood a chance against the horde of Fallen that had attacked. He was lucky (arguably); he had gotten away with his life, yet sporting an infection. Many considered an infection to be worse than death.

He was fully awake in his days as a Fallen.

He completely recognized his actions as his newly formed claws had sunk into Minecrafter, and sometimes villager, flesh. No matter how revolted he felt, he could not ignore the call, the beckoning, the sweet smell of flesh. Why should they be able to enjoy their succulent, warm blood all they wanted? His revulsion rose, his elation withering away.

Why should a monster like him be granted the gift of life again?

A faint tap came from up above him. He hesitated as it was repeated, and reached up, bumping his hand against the roof. There was a pause, and then cracks began spreading out in a section of the roof. The cobblestone block shattered, the smaller form of it clattering to the ground. Harsh light streamed in, and Lativ jerked backwards sluggishly, wrenching his eyes closed and stumbling to the floor.

"You're not still Fallen, are you?" a voice asked, slightly amused.

It took him a minute to respond, and the man outside was close to blocking him back up before Lativ hoarsely croaked, "I'm alive, now."

"Perfect." The man leaped into the hole, hand at the hilt of the sword at the waist just to reassure himself. A shiny, gleaming diamond pick rested in his hand, and with a few quick motions he mined out the roof. Lativ flinched away from the bright rays of the sun, eyes unused to the sudden light as the man created a short staircase upwards out of the cobblestone blocks.

"Come," the man said, gesturing for the villager to follow. He was a typical Minecrafter hero, body tall and muscular, with clean blonde hair and smug blue eyes. The only discrepancy was the large, bulging nose that hung thinly from his face. Minecrafters didn't have that; only the species Lativ was a part of. Some kind of half-breed, maybe?"The town Cured Center is full, so you'll be lodging with me. My name is Gaias."

Lativ chose not to reply.

"You are?" Gaias prodded irritably after a moment. Again Lativ chose to stick to silence, and Gaias shrugged, not speaking anymore.

Gaias, as it turned out, had a very large house, made of spruce logs and oak planks. Gaias led Lativ through the strong, large doors and through the main room, over a lush, navy blue carpet and up a modest dark oak staircase. He led Lativ to a narrow hallway, gesturing towards a door and retreating with few words. At the end of the hallway, Lativ could see the panic room, clearly labeled with a sign, as decreed by law – the room where, if one's home was breached by Fallen, you could quickly locate a gun or cure equipment. Rather ruined the cure marketing campaign when they included guns with their equipment, Lativ thought.

Lativ opened the door to his room. It was small and short, a lush bed jammed into the corner and a table resting nearby. A torch flicked high on the wall, but Lativ barely spared it a glance as he crossed the room to the bed. There was no space under the bed; the mattress was placed against the floor. Likewise, there was no window and, as Lativ noted, no way to lock the door from the inside that he could see.

Home, he scoffed silently. More like a prison.

At least it would be better than the Cured Center.

He assumed.

Instead of reveling in his newly reclaimed humanity, going out to explore the day while the sun was still high in the sky, Lativ simply collapsed onto the bed and wept.

The town of Luthan – that is, the town Gaias had pledged himself to watch over – was disgusting.

Seventeen hours he had been cured, and Gaias had already assigned Lativ to his home's staff. Apparently, however, he had to register as an officially cured citizen at the Cured Center in town. He regretted his agreement.

The stench of death and rot cut through the air. The moment the thick wave hit him Lativ gagged, eyes watering and bile rising up lightly in the back of his throat. He plugged his nose up with his fingers, wading through the low dirt streets. He did his best to ignore the ramshackle buildings, the wood long since rotted and the short stone buildings sad and unprofessional.

Lativ especially did his best to ignore the blood.

It was all around him. Various splatters and pools on the path he was walking on, blood which he had to take care to steer clear of. Men and women, some still fully alive, some nearing Fallen state, lying on the ground and groaning and moaning, begging for the sweet mercy of death. Sharp rocks and long since broken swords coated in the dried substance, cast to the side in hopes that regret would be forgotten. The regret would never be gone.

Without noticing, Lativ sped up his pace, briskly angling for the Cured Center. The building was the tallest of the town, with tarnished quartz pillars and smooth stone with various figures carved into it. At one point it would have been a nice building, but now it was just a faint memory of a town once grand.

Lativ hurried up the cracked steps. The short flight of stairs were old and covered with dead moss, and vaguely Lativ harbored the idea of some bloodthirsty monster hiding under the stairs. He was being silly. He hesitated at the shabby doors – ignoring the half dozen huddled forms around him – and finally pushed forward inside.

The Cured Center was surprisingly nice. The floor was a deep spruce wood, the walls a pale quartz. A few unused benches sat along the walls, and vibrant paintings hung from the walls. They had taken great pains to keep the inside of the building, at least; Lativ almost could have called it homely, if he ignored the armed guards and the cold glares sent his way.

He hurried into the room, hesitating no longer, casting his gaze downwards and shuffling past the cold guards. Lativ turned towards the reception desk; a woman sat behind it, flipping through a thin book in boredom. She didn't even glance upwards at Lativ.

"I-" The words had barely begun to form when she jerked a thumb to the right, silencing him. He glanced to the right, spotting a worn oak door, and without another word Lativ hurried over to it. He hesitated at the doorway, and a guard nearby nudged Lativ with the butt of his spear. Lativ sighed inwardly, pushing the door open and stepping through.

A short man man was instantly in his face. "Are you a cured?" he inquired, and Lativ nodded lightly before the man grabbed his arm. Lativ jerked back, and the man ignored it, tugging him forward. Hesitantly Lativ followed, and the two of them passed multiple doorways before the man pushed him through one, closing and locking it behind him.

The room was dark, and Lativ waited a few minutes for his eyes to adjust. A low table and a chair sat pushed up against the wall, and a hole in the wall was covered with iron bars. Lativ walked over to the table, settling himself in the uncomfortable chair and peering through the bars. He could see nothing. It took him another moment to notice the stone button next to the window, and after a moment he pushed it. A bright red light lit up from the other side of the bars.

"That took much longer than I would think necessary," a crisp voice said from the other side of the bars. Lativ jumped faintly, yet he could still not see anything through the bars. "Before we begin, you do happen to have basic schooling complete, yes?"

"Erm, yes," Lativ answered hesitantly.

Then the quiz began.

The man in the next room quizzed him on every basic thing a Minecrafter or villager should know – basic Minecraftian history, the stories and legends of other lands, whether he could read or not and, when he said he could, questions on basic literature. It took Lativ a while to realize that this was a strictly formed recap of Basic Education, made to sound as if it weren't. They were testing his memory, trying to work out if he could remember the basics that a human being should know. They questioned him about his profession before his Falling – he was a farmer, and he gave a long lecture about it. The man listened dutifully, never interrupting Lativ and instead waiting for him to finish speaking before moving onto another question.

Lativ's throat was beginning to burn, his stomach beginning to beg and rumble for nourishment, when the man called the quiz over. Without apparently bothering to review anything at all, the man said, "You're done. Goodbye!" cheerfully and then went silent. Lativ could hear a door opening and closing faintly, and then he was alone in darkness.

Was that it? Lativ felt slightly disappointed. After all that, it felt like there was no real point to the quiz; just a requirement he had to get done, no real effort or risk of failure in it, just a waste of time. Maybe he was over-thinking things.

The door flew open, and Lativ jerked back, the light overloading his senses. He fell backwards, the chair toppling over him, and writhed on the ground for a bit. He halted after a minute, breathing shakily and shuddering. Warily, Lativ opened his eyes to see a dark silhouette standing above him, and after a careful moment of inspection he noted it was the man that led him to the door in the first place. The man held a spear, and the bored expression on his face implied this was a common occurrence.

The Fallen did not like light, after all.

The man jerked Lativ to his feet and half-dragged, half-carried Lativ out. The guards barely glanced at the pair as the Cured was dragged outwards and shoved to the steps of the Cured Center. Lativ groaned, shuddering and shaking, sweat dripping from his body, and slowly he pushed himself up. The doors were closed behind him, and slowly he stumbled down the stairs, angling towards Gaias' home.

A pained scream stopped him.

He jerked to a halt, turning towards the scream, eyes alert. It sounded again, quieter, more hoarse and pleading. Lativ hesitated but a moment before he dashed off towards the source.

He winded through the ragged streets of Luthan, passing more crumbling homes and corpses. The lack of Fallen surprised him; the amount of death would usually attract them, and it was a common occurrence for the living to have to hide from the Fallen in their homes if there were no warriors – or a more insane, bloodthirsty variety – ready at hand to deal with them.

He rounded into a slum of a street and spotted the man. It was a stretch to call him a man, actually; he looked to be barely out of boyhood.

He was pitiful. His head was bald, his skin dirty and sickly green. His ribs protruded blatantly from his thin, almost skeletal body, and he held no tunic and only ragged, torn trousers. A trail of tears and blood was apparent behind him, and Lativ spotted a nasty wound on his arm. It took him a moment to realize that the wound was a bite. Bites were how Fallen transferred the disease to others; in an hour, this boy would be reanimated as an undead mob.

Lativ noticed that the boy was dragging himself towards the Cured Center.

Lativ dashed over to the dying boy, feet pounding, heart racing. What was he to do? Drag him to the Cured Center. They would help him – it was legally required all establishments must have the equipment to either kill or cure someone turning, and they couldn't very well kill a boy, could they? Lativ hooked his arms under the boy; the dying boy didn't even glance at him, sobbing silently, eyes intent on the Cured Center.

He was too light for a Minecrafter. Lativ barely struggled as he dragged him, and finally Lativ paused, flipping the boy over, hooking one arm under the boys shoulders and the under under his knees. The boy groaned, swatted at Lativ blindly, and Lativ ignored him, eyes focused on the Cured Center.

He was so focused the boy spasmed before Lativ noticed the arrow protruding from his chest.

Lativ paused, mouth parted widely, staring at the arrow before a scream escaped his lips. He jerked backwards, shamefully dropping the boy to the ground. The boy screamed, throat hoarse as he shifted and jerked around, dying. Lativ tripped, stumbling backwards, eyes wide in horror. He turned his gaze, looking around, when a man in a black cloak stepped from an alley, boy in his hands and quiver of arrows across his back.

"Poor boy," clucked the man, though there was no hint of shame in his voice.

"Poor?" Lativ exclaimed. Shame and horror were shoved aside as anger lifted inside him. His body trembled, and he could not stop his voice from rising as he continued. "_Poor_?! You just _killed _him!"

"I did," the man agreed calmly. "Death is better than being Fallen, or Cured, no?"

"Who are you to say that?" snarled Lativ, jerking to his feet. His hands clenched into fists, and without realizing it he slowly began to advance upon the man. "Death is-" Lativ stumbled over his words, uncertainty becoming prevalent in his emotions. "How can you say... Being Cured isn't that horrible."

It was a lie. Even without the memories of all the murder he had committed against his will, Lativ still felt shaken alone from the disgust of his body being used as a puppet for some other, stupider being. Considering it made him want to vomit, and his face turned green as the man smirked in response.

"Who am I?" the man said finally, fingers curling around the bow. "I am Crestfallen, one of the few who are still brave enough to save this world from beasts like him. And you," he added, and Lativ jerked backwards as if slapped. "You shouldn't make it so obvious who you are... Why, I should put you out of your misery, shouldn't I?"

Lativ's mouth opened, and he had to resist the instant urge to scream "Yes!" It was just a thoughtless, careless comment he wished to forget he ever wished to make. The man's smile grew wider, and Lativ numbly noticed his hand straying towards an arrow, bow taut in his hands.

Lativ made no sound as he turned to flee. The Crestfallen swore loudly, hoping for the Cured to not notice. Lativ sprinted, ducking his head down, ignoring the arrow flying past him and slamming through the rotting wood of a home. He ran, ignoring the next two arrows that soared past him, ignoring the irritated yell that came from the man.

He ran until he collapsed at Gaias' home, gasping for breath, staying there until Gaias found him huddled on the ground.

"_Lativ! Zoya!" _Gaias' deep voice, tinged with worry and concern. "Inside! Now!"

The two – Zoya being a female worker on Gaias' estate, another Cured he had "helped" - were currently on his wooden roof, patching a few loose planks. Now they paused, Lativ with hammer in air and Zoya rifling in the bag for planks. Gaias' strong form appeared at the bottom of the ladder, eyes wide with worry.

"The Crestfallen," he said hurriedly, and Lativ's blood ran cold. The two Cured shared a short glance, and without a word they hurried. Lativ shoved the hammer into the bag, sliding down the ladder and stepping out of the way for Zoya to follow with the bag. After she was down, Lativ grabbed the heavy ladder, grunting faintly and placing it near the ground. The two turned to Gaias, who swiveled and led them into the house.

Right in the main room, Gaias veered to the left and stopped at a tall, grandfather clock near the window. Gaias reached behind it, fiddling with something unseen before pistons whirred and the clock moved out of the way. A trapdoor lay open, leading downwards into a hidden room in the floor.

"A bit... obvious," Lativ commented, and Gaias grimaced.

"I'm not much in the way of hidden rooms and secret passages," he said with a apologetic shrug. After a moment, he glanced over his shoulder worriedly, and the two Cured took the hint. Zoya went in first, and Lativ followed afterward. He had to crouch low, almost laying down flat, and he was glad he was not claustrophobic. Gaias fiddled with the hidden redstone again, and the clock zoomed back into place, plunging the two into darkness.

The only light was through a thin crack in the planks that Lativ peered through. He paused, glancing at Zoya, but the female villager did not pay any attention to him. He paused, staring at her; she curled up into a ball, eyes wide, sweat dripping down her forehead and breath coming in faint, ragged gasps. Lativ cursed, glancing away. What was he supposed to do? If any Crestfallen appeared, as Gaias had implied, it would be hard for them to not hear her. Should he try to comfort her, or something? He didn't expect that to be a good idea. He wasn't comfortable with "comforting" someone in the first place, and besides, they barely knew each other.

He was about to shift over there in an amateur attempt to do _something _when footsteps sounded above. He froze; Zoya did too, breath stopping suddenly in her throat as her fearful eyes glanced upwards. Cautiously, Lativ peered upwards, through the crack. He could faintly hear voices, but even craning his neck he could not see much besides wall.

The footsteps drew nearer, and Lativ was able to hear a voice. "...any of _them _on my estate. Of course not! Why would I want them to work here?"

A thick, black leather boot paused atop his hiding place, blocking the crack. Lativ jerked backwards, stilling instantly. His eyes wide, his mouth lightly parted, he looked like a zombie caught in torchlight.

"We've heard rumors," a gruff voice said.

"Rumors?" scoffed Gaias in reply, and Lativ could hear the man faintly shifting away from their hiding spot. "What good are rumors?"

"Rumors are very good," a calm voice said. Lativ recognized that voice. It was the Crestfallen man that had killed the boy. "And this rumor was from a very trusted source, you see."

"Well, search," snapped Gaias, suddenly tired of their questioning. "You'll find nothing, I assure you."

"We shall see," replied the calm voice. "We shall see."

The foot left the crack, and Lativ didn't bother to try and peer out of it again. Footsteps fanned out away from them, and after a moment Lativ assumed the last pair was Gaias leaving too.

It was a grueling process, waiting for them to comb the house. Zoya whimpered quietly opposite him, and every time he could make out footsteps he assumed the worst, that they were heard and they were angling straight towards the pairs hiding place. He quelled at thoughts of what would happen to them if the Crestfallen found them.

It felt like hours had passed when the Crestfallen and Gaias gathered near their hiding spot again. Lativ couldn't care enough to muster the will to listen in on the conversation; a few snippets of "I told you so," from a smug Gaias, a mumbled apology from the gruff Crestfallen before they began to leave. As they left, a foot stopped, planted directly over the crack.

"Again, I must formally apologize," the smooth Crestfallen said. "When you said there were no Cured here, we should have believed you. Yes, should have..." He lingered above the crack a moment too long for Lativ's liking before he left.

A few minutes later, Gaias moved the clock back out of place. The grimace on his face told Lativ that he did not believe it had worked.

Lativ learned that he did not like to read.

He had never had much chance for it before, being a simple farmer. He knew how to read – he learned that in basic schooling, and still retained memories of it – even if he wasn't that proficient when it came to more advanced words.

He sat in the main room, by the front window, book sitting on the table in front of him. He grimaced – truly, he did not take the book from Gaias' library to read thirty lines about how blue the ocean was. Lativ sighed, glancing out the window; the light from outside was fading as the sun descended from view. Honestly, he was worried – Gaias had left for Fallen-Curing hours ago and still had not returned, and being out in the dark with Fallen was not a good idea.

He shuddered whenever he imagined the Fallen, so he did his best to keep them out of his thoughts.

The sound of a horse calmly trotting up the stone path made him pause, closing the back without regard for the page and glancing out the window. A deep brown horse came into view, rider atop it in a long black cloak that covered his body. Lativ panicked, and didn't realize that he had shoved himself to his feet when Gaias pulled the hood down, nodding towards the Cured.

Gaias settled back into the chair, breathing a sigh of relief as Gaias hurried the horse around the house and to its stable. A few minutes later he entered through the front door, pulling the cloak off and hanging it on a hook from the wall for easy access when he left. A box, filled with Cure equipment, hung at his waist, along with a sword. He did not take either off as he settled down at the table with Lativ.

"Hello, Lativ," Gaias said nonchalantly.

Lativ nodded, then asked, "Bad day?"

"I suppose," Gaias said with a grimace. After a moment, he added, "Three weakness potions wasted. Almost as if the Fallen are becoming resistant to..." He trailed off quietly.

Lativ hesitated. After a moment, quietly, he said, "Gaias, maybe you shouldn't..."

Gaias' head snapped upwards, eyes narrowing and locking onto Lativ. Lativ trailed off, stammering quietly. How could he even think of convincing Gaias to consider his own viewpoint? Maybe this wasn't the best time.

"I shouldn't what, Lativ?" Gaias said softly. Lativ took a deep breath.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't-"

The rest of his sentence faltered when the Cured Center of Luthan exploded.

Lativ shrieked, leaping away up from the table. Gaias jerked to his feet, sword halfway free before he paused, mouth hanging open. Lativ hesitated, then stepped up to the window, peering out with wide, horror-filled eyes.

Normally, Lativ could not clearly see the Cured Center from Gaias' house. That was not true tonight; the short, squat building was engulfed in flames, sagging downwards. The flames licking over it spread to nearby buildings as well, covering them without regard for anything. Minecrafters and villagers screamed, fleeing from the building and seeking safety. A small group of guards from the center and citizens from Luthan were bustling about, gathering buckets of water and flinging it at the fire.

The brave firefighters died when the Center exploded once more, this time larger, destroying the entire building and sending stray sticks of TNT and fragments of charred wood and sharp stone into the bodies of anyone too close. Lativ and Gaias watched in horror; after a moment, Gaias grabbed his cloak with a pained growl, shrugging it on and dashing out of the house, sprinting towards Luthan, leaving Lativ to watch hopelessly as the Center fell.

"Damn the Crestfallen," Gaias growled once more. Lativ hesitated in the doorway of Gaias' room, unsure what to say or do.

It had been three days since the Cured Center was destroyed. Shortly after the citizens managed to quell the blaze – at least a dozen buildings burned to ash and countless citizens wounded (or worse) – the Crestfallen claimed responsibility for the attack. They offered no reason, and none was required, for everyone knew how the Crestfallen thought – Why give special rights to a certain branch of murderers? Lativ did not know how he felt about this.

"Gaias-" Lativ began. The man turned towards him, rage filled in his eyes.

"_Go,_" Gaias ordered, and the villager's words died in his throat. He stopped for a moment, and Gaias rose from his position threateningly. Lativ sighed, closing the door and walking to his own room.

Gaias had just come back from a long Fallen-Curing trip. He had come back angered, blood splattering his cloak and sword and Curing kit completely gone. He had not spoken to anyone as he stormed to his room, ignoring Lativ and Zoya and any of his other workers, only mumbling angrily about "The damned Crestfallen" and more incomprehensible ramblings.

Lativ collapsed onto his bed, groaning, planting his hand over his eyes to block out the light. Faintly he considered blowing out the torch and falling asleep, but he discarded it – he was in no real mood for sleep at the moment. Maybe he should help another worker with something? Not that there would be many workers on the estate at this hour. Many of the workers had their own homes – only two others, besides Lativ, actually lived in the house.

Faintly, Lativ heard someone slowly knocking on the door. He sighed, listening; it repeated twice more – again. After the fourth time the knocking repeated, Lativ frowned, sitting up. Fine, then – he'd do it. The knocking repeated as he opened the door, whispering, "Someone needs to learn some patience," and stepping out of his room.

Lativ turned and screamed.

Gaias turned towards him, skin sickly pale and void of color. His glassy, dull eyes flashed with an overwhelming lust for blood, and as he moved his bloody cloak shifted to reveal a large, bloody wound that he had bandaged roughly. His nostrils flared, and he opened his mouth in a low growl, showing chipped teeth and a fat, bloody tongue. Oh Notch, where did all that extra blood come from?

Gaias had Fallen.

Lativ scrambled back, slipping over his own feet and falling back as the Fallen Gaias left the nearly-shattered door he was at and began his sprint. Lativ swore, pushing himself up, running before he was fully straightened towards the end of the hall. The end of the hall, a dead end – wait, no! The panic room sign was clear as day, even if the entrance to it wasn't. He stopped at the end of the hall, hurriedly searching for a door handle, praying Gaias would have the sense to actually put a panic room in. He had to – the Crestfallen would have arrested him for it otherwise.

He spotted the lever on a table, hidden by a flower pot with a vibrant dandelion planted in dirt. He flipped the switch, and pistons whirred, shifting the painted wooden panel out of the way. Lativ leaped inside, spotted a pair of levers and, in his haste and panic, flipped both of them downwards. The panel slid back, and a few seconds later Fallen Gaias slammed into it, rotted mind curious as to where Lativ had disappeared to.

Lativ glanced around the small panic room, ignoring the cracking wood as Gaias pounded against the fake panel. There were two cases, each labeled very differently – the large case, very similar to the one Gaias carried. On it, it said "Cure." Inside, there would be one or two weakness potions, a weaker-golden apple, a torch, flint and steel to light the torch, and a rope. It would be a tough process, knocking him out without killing him, force-feeding him the golden apple, locking him in a small, dark place for days, especially for Lativ, who had never done it.

Or he could take the second option, the smaller, simpler case that read "Kill." Inside – Lativ risked a quick check to assure himself – a sleek, silver revolver, with six bullets to load into it.

Lativ thought about what Gaias would choose. Easily, he would cure the Fallen, would he not? That was what he had been doing – a justice for the world. Or so he thought. Would Gaias truly wish to be a Cured?

The panel splintered, a long crack appearing. The panel screeched as it was slowly ripped from the wall, and for a second Lativ caught a glance of Gaias' red, bloodthirsty eyes.

Without another thought of hesitation, Lativ lunged for the box labeled "Kill."

* * *

I don't actually need an author's note, but I'm including one anyway because I'm a cool kid.


End file.
